<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Last Dance by burnt_august</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25696243">Last Dance</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnt_august/pseuds/burnt_august'>burnt_august</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1940s, 1940s!Bucky, Bucky Barnes Feels, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Light Smut, No like this is sad, Sad Ending, Sexual Content</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:48:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,252</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25696243</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/burnt_august/pseuds/burnt_august</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a broken deal from the start, just one dance and Bucky Barnes will leave you.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>25</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Last Dance</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He’s on a date with a sweet dame at the soda fountain when he first sees you looking like an absolute vision. Scowl and all. And when you smack the boy leaning over you from behind, he’s certain you must be some angel fell from heaven. An angry one sure, but an angel still. With downy feathers and doused in golden light. His heart, big and red and beating strong, trembles at the sight. He’s felt flutters in his stomach before and let out uncontrollable smiles when pretty lips press kisses to his cheek, but never has his heart stuttered like that.</p>
<p>Tip to tail, Bucky Barnes trembles, <em>tingles</em> as you walk towards him with fire in your eyes and dark lead drawing your lips into a frown.</p>
<p><em>Him!</em> You’re walking towards him, kitten heels pounding into the checkered floor and Bucky’s mouth falls slack mid-flirt. His date protests, face twisted sour, but he can’t bring himself to do more than stutter over an apology. Jeez, he sounds like Steve, jaw falling open and offering her nothing but a strangled gurgle.</p>
<p>Ten feet feels still too far as you tie your coat closed tight, spitting venom over your shoulder at the disgruntled man with a red handprint across his cheek that trails after you.</p>
<p>In front of him, right there before him you stand a heavenly storm and he can’t help the breathless <em>“Hi...”</em> that escapes his lips.</p>
<p>You fix Bucky with a strange look, narrowed eyes flitting across the handsome planes of his dazed face. It doesn’t matter how you’re looking at him though, at least not to Bucky. No, all that matters is that you’re looking at him, damn the residual anger still dragging your brow down. He feels fuzzy all over, lights fading into twinkling stars and chatter softening into a low hum like all the cheesy pictures Steve sees. </p>
<p>What feels like an eternity to the Brooklyn boy only really lasts about fifteen seconds before you’re glossing over him and focusing instead on his date, Rita. “Can we get outta here, Reets? I think I’ve had my fill of drugstore cowboys,” you ask, curiously side-eyeing her date that seems to have a few screws loose. </p>
<p>Rita sighs, lifting her hand from where she’d placed it on Bucky’s bicep, “But-”</p>
<p>“I can walk you home!”</p>
<p>Bucky cringes as the both of you stare at him following his outburst, a little too loud and a touch too eager. He can feel Rita glaring daggers into him and while Bucky does feel guilty for being a complete jerk, he can’t help himself to stop staring at you with that hazy look in his baby blues.</p>
<p>Your friend coughs loudly, interrupting the drawn out eye contact as you scrutinize this strange man she had chosen to spend the night with. You’re almost thankful for it, the reprieve from those deep pools that seem to shine with your reflection in them. </p>
<p>“Ya know what, you two-”</p>
<p>“Bucky,” he supplies with a lazy smile stretching across his pink lips, even if you didn’t really ask. Your face scrunches up and really, he has never seen a woman so beautiful. </p>
<p>“Right... Reets, you and <em>Bucky</em> enjoy your night. I’ll find my way home just fine,” you smile tightly, already making leave. Anything to get away from the starry-eyed man who didn’t seem to concern himself with anything else but you-- not even his date, your friend.</p>
<p>The swinging door and the soft ting of the shop bell accompanies the fleeting image of your skirt flaring behind you and Bucky’s suddenly cold. You’ve taken all warmth from him, any semblance of the burning giddiness that’s seemed to overpower him in the short time since he first saw you. Steve teased him before of a similar feeling. Those infatuations that burnt too bright, too fast and then, in the blink of an eye fizzle out pathetically. </p>
<p>This doesn’t feel like that. This feels like if he lets you go without getting your name and some hope of seeing you again, he might never be able to breathe again. </p>
<p>Really, what is <em>happening</em> to him? </p>
<p>“Listen, Rita...” he sheepishly mumbles, gathering his own coat.</p>
<p>Rita glares at him with enough force to level Brooklyn, eyes ablaze in disbelief, “Bucky Barnes, I swear if you leave me right now...”</p>
<p>Bucky straightens, his whole body buzzing with the need to run after you. His eyes may be glued to your figure floating past the shop windows, but he has at least enough in him to guiltily offer, “I am so so sorry. Will you get home alright?”</p>
<p>“Will I-” Rita’s rising volume starts to draw eyes, “Are you serious? You’re going after<em> her?</em> My friend?!”</p>
<p>“I really am sorry,” he fumbles in his pocket for some cash, slapping it down on the counter. Barely glancing at the shop owner Bucky asks, “Make sure she gets home alright, Tommy?” </p>
<p>His feet start moving on their own volition, worn brown soles headed for the door before he even has the chance to hear a reply. He knows Tommy is a good man and that Rita will be fine. But him? Well, doused in the cool November air and whirling around left and right trying to find you, Bucky can feel the tightness in his face, a deep frown threatening to settle over him. </p>
<p>Bucky hears you first, clicking heels-- those robin’s egg blue Mary Janes with the daisy eyelets that he’s surprised he even noticed-- mixed in somewhere between an errant car horn and distant music. You’re a flurry of wild hair, tawny peacoat waving in the wind as you chase down a yellow cab. His lips pull into a grin as it leaves you in the dust, cursing colorfully under your breath. </p>
<p>“Hey!” Bucky shouts to get your attention.</p>
<p>“Oh,” your lips fall slack at the sight of him briskly walking to close the distance between you. There’s cute little lines on your scrunched up nose that Bucky just wants to kiss away. “Everything alright? Is Rita okay?”</p>
<p>Bucky nods eagerly, unable to calm that wide smile that makes his cheeks ache or his racing heart that unconsciously sends his chest into a soft heave, “She’s fine, jus’ wanna make sure you get home alright. ‘Specially after that handsy jerk back there.”</p>
<p>It might’ve been cute, a nice gesture that would’ve soothed over the harsh sting left by some other man earlier in the night. It could’ve made you smile and set butterflies loose in your stomach and all of the other feelings that your girlfriends talked about. </p>
<p>“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date right now?”</p>
<p>You expect a lightbulb to flick on over his head, for him to head right back into the shop at the reminder, to break out of whatever odd stupor had kept him from rational thought. But it never comes, he just nods softly and sways on his feet, hands stuffed into his pockets looking relaxed and very much unbothered by your question.</p>
<p>“Well, Billy, don’t suppose it’s proper date etiquette to leave your girl to walk home her friend, is it?”</p>
<p>He tries not to let the misnomer hurt too bad, settles instead for a brief grimace to relieve the pang in his heart. Bucky kicks himself for not properly introducing himself before. Maybe if you hadn’t been so absolutely disarming, he would’ve been able to offer more than a quiet whisper of his name. Maybe then it would’ve stuck and he would’ve gotten yours in return. </p>
<p>“It’s Bucky. Bucky Barnes. And if it’s all the same to you, Angel, can’t we just pretend I’m just walking my girl home?” </p>
<p>You snort, honest-to-god snort and it only endears you to him more. He thinks at this point he’s half in love with you and any more he might just propose on the sidewalk. It’s crazy, he realizes. But his mother always said sane is boring. </p>
<p>“Are you thick in the head or just a plain jerk, <em>Bucky Barnes?</em>”</p>
<p>“Huh?” Bucky’s eyes bug out of his head.</p>
<p>You roll your eyes and that’s it for him. His knees scream at him to bend down on one of them and beg you to be his forever. “You do realize Rita’s my friend, right? The girl you left to do whatever it is you’re doing right now?”</p>
<p>He’d thought he was flirting, being cute, the right side of cheeky. Apparently not. Bucky clears his throat, smile falling just a bit into something softer, <em>shy</em> if you’d believe it, “I ain’t ever met a dame like you, Angel. What’s your name? Please, I gotta know.”</p>
<p>Quiet, less full-on than before, you can appreciate how handsome he is. That bashful blush across rose petal lips, stirs you up inside. You vaguely remember Rita gushing about meeting him the 'most beautiful man across all five boroughs’ and laughing at her hyperbolic tendencies. Dark chestnut quaff, chiseled jaw with a dimple at his chin, frosted blue irises-- ‘most beautiful’ may not be something you can say for certain, but he is a downright <em>dish</em>. Too bad he’s apparently a perfect mix of thick in the head and jerk. </p>
<p>“What’ll it take to get you to leave me alone, fat head?”</p>
<p>Truthfully, Bucky will go if you really want him to. He’s not so arrogant to overstay his welcome with women who want nothing to do with him. He won’t try and change their mind about him because normally, they’re right. </p>
<p>“A dance?” He can’t help himself. </p>
<p>His heart, the big and red and beating strong one, feels like it blooms flowers out of his chest when you seem to actually ponder the idea. You've lost a lot of your initial fire, eyes cast downwards, brows pulled together in thought, hands fiddling with a button on your coat. Another flash of you that Bucky just catches a glimpse of that makes him feel like a little boy. </p>
<p>“So if I dance with you, you’ll never talk to me again?”</p>
<p>“One dance and I’ll disappear, if that’s what you want,” Bucky reluctantly replies. He’s pretty sure the one dance is gonna make him want a million, but he’ll honor your wishes. </p>
<p>You spare a glance up at him, and god dammit he looks like a puppy. A puppy you’ve kicked and you just want to wrap him up in your arms and tell him you’re sorry for whatever it is you’ve done and- <em>what?</em></p>
<p>“You’ll keep your hands chaste?”</p>
<p>“Scouts honor.”</p>
<p>“Right here?”</p>
<p>“Right here,” Bucky smiles, the soft one that you like a lot more than the too big one you saw him flash Rita earlier in the night. <em>Rita!</em> You’d almost forgotten that the next morning Rita will have that sour look on her face and be cursing his name. And you’re supposed to tell her just how much of a jerk he is and how she deserves better than men like him. </p>
<p>“But there’s no music...”</p>
<p>“Sure there is, Angel.” </p>
<p>Bucky gestures to the shop behind you as he already sways gently to the faint sounds of Louis Armstrong’s trumpet from the windows emanating warm light that paints everything rose. </p>
<p>“You’ll stop calling me Angel?”</p>
<p>“But you are.”</p>
<p>The words catch in your throat and you can only manage a flustered <em>“um”</em> in response. You’ve not exactly shown Bucky Barnes your best side tonight. He’s witnessed you slap a man and storm out of the soda fountain dramatically with the ugliest angry face you could muster. You’ve called him the wrong name and then fat head and you’ve rather rudely told him to ‘bug off’ in no uncertain terms. And you’re an angel for it? He really <em>is</em> crazy.</p>
<p>You ignore it, shaking your head and holding a hand out to notarize the agreement. </p>
<p>“Okay, deal.”</p>
<p>It’s a broken deal from the start. Bucky knew it, you knew it. </p>
<p>As you sway back and forth in your apartment, bodies desperately clinging to one another, some part of Bucky, the unselfish part of his love that only wants to see you happy, wishes you’d never said yes. That you left him in the rear window of a taxi or even gave him a good wallop for pestering you so much because you’re breaking his heart-- <em>because he’s breaking yours</em>. </p>
<p>“Angel, I-”</p>
<p>“Can we just dance, Buck? Please, just let me hold you.”</p>
<p>Your tears are warm and wet in the hollow of his neck, eyelashes drawing small streaks of mascara over his pulse. Every time your trembling lips brush over his throat, peppering it with soft kisses like bolts trying to anchor him to you and Brooklyn, Bucky feels like his heart-- the one that trembles just for you-- just might shatter. </p>
<p>One of the fingers clutching tight balls of his fresh green uniform, he’d hoped to be wrapped in a gold band some day. He imagined a matching one of his own, gleaming proudly in the sun for all to see that he is yours and you, his. He tells you all of this because he thinks it might make you feel better. Give you hope and something special to plan for when he gets back. Steve will have to hold on to the rings, of course, because Bucky can’t be trusted to not lose anything important. </p>
<p>He bites his tongue thinking that the sentiment might include even you. </p>
<p>You’ll get married at the courthouse because once he’s back home, he won’t want to spend another night not being your husband. It’ll have to be in secret because his and your Ma’s will murder you both for not having it in a house of god. That’s okay, though, because Steve will be there with the rings and Rita, who never fails to shoot him scathing glares, can reluctantly hold your flowers. It’ll be perfect. He can’t wait. </p>
<p>“Bucky, please...” you sob, not really sure what you’re asking for. </p>
<p><em>Please let’s just dance. Please hold me tight and never let go. Kiss me, touch me, give me something, everything. Please stop making promises you can’t keep.</em> <em><b>Please stay</b></em>.</p>
<p>His answer is to softly cup your jaw and brush his thumb over your chin tenderly. To duck down and press his lips to yours lightly, sweet and slow with a saltiness that you can recognize as tears. Yours, his, the world’s. </p>
<p>It’s quiet, only the static of a finished record that still twirls around the gramophone and your soft sniffles filling the dark room. You’re still swaying as Bucky holds you tighter to him, the hand over your jaw slipping into the back of your hair, the other gliding from hip to the small of your back.  </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He hasn’t stopped touching you since he got his orders. At dinner he kept your left hand tightly grasped in his across the table, wouldn’t let go, even when you needed it. At the Stark Expo, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and littered your face with kisses when he could, sometimes drifting a hand on the curve of your ass. He wanted to go dancing, to get to hold you close for a couple more hours and see you smile-- touch up the image of it etched in memory so that he won’t forget on the nights he’s surely going to need it. </p>
<p>You end up at home instead, not really dancing like he’d wanted, but better still. Just wrapped around each other with pale moonlight lighting the high points of your faces, the rest in shadows. There’s some semblance of dancing. Your hands began on the tops of his shoulders and his respectably on your hips. </p>
<p>On the bed, Bucky’s shivering weight pressing you into the mattress, your shaking hands curl around his back and dimple the hot expanse of skin there. He’s whispering all those hopes and dreams into your skin, marking it as a promise with a kiss and lave from his warm tongue. Bucky’s sweet on you, he’s made sure all of Brooklyn knows it, so he’s always sweet with you. You feel grotesque, eyes puffy with snot dripping from your nose, but he calls you the most beautiful things, stares at you like you’re an angel. </p>
<p>He marvels quietly at the sight of you beneath him, skirt rucked up and the top half of your dress pulled down so his lips could find familiar ardent trails. Bucky’s fingers trek the path from your bobbing throat that’s still half sobbing down the center of your chest, curving around you to slot themselves between your ribs. He’s unusually sloth-like in every movement, eyes lazily tracing your familiar curves, hands palming your flesh that vibrates with need unhurriedly, drinking up all of the soft sounds of pleasure that spill from your lips. You know what he’s doing and you can’t keep the tears at bay when he meets your eyes again. He’s committing every part of you to memory, looking at you like it’s the last time. </p>
<p>Bucky thinks perhaps the worst and best thing he’s ever done was dare to look at you long enough to fall in love. </p>
<p>He’s crying too when he finally takes you, muttering <em>‘I love you’</em> so many times that it starts to sound like<em> ‘I’m sorry’</em>. Punctuating every thrust with a desperate kiss that makes him love you more and more and himself less and less. He never deserved you and you loved him anyway and now he’s off to war unable to fight the deep upset at the idea of you at home waiting for him. Wondering if he might die before he ever gets the chance to do the decent thing and marry you, make an honest woman out of the love of his life. </p>
<p>“Bucky, I-” you choke out, legs locked around his undulating hips, feet pressed into the backs of his thighs.</p>
<p>He smiles the soft one you love so much, but it wavers as he balances himself on one trembling arm, bringing the other up to brush damp hair from your face and hushes you soothingly as he picks up pace. </p>
<p>Bucky ruts into you with his forehead pressed against yours, eyes locked so close and all you can see is blue and a reflection of yourself that is more beautiful than you see in the mirror. </p>
<p>This is how Bucky sees you and your heart burns at the realization. </p>
<p>You moan in the small distance between your lips, as you feel it bubbling up inside; all that Bucky has always tried so desperately to show you, he’s pushing into the warmest parts of you and begging you to understand. Love and adoration and something so strong you don’t think there’s even a word for. It mounts in your tensed gut, cresting with a hard thrust that has you wailing and clutching him so tightly you think you’ve melted into him. You’re sure of it. He’s taking every part of you with him. </p>
<p>After he’s finished simultaneously filling you with all of his love and ripping your heart out of your chest, there’s not much else to say. No more tears, no more declarations of love and apology. Just this emptiness as the two of you lay a tangled mess of numb limbs, waiting for the sun to come up and take him off to war. </p>
<p>Bucky kisses your forehead softly, and manages to push a whisper out of his throat raw from sobbing and crying out your name, “I’ll come back to you or I’ll die trying.” </p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>